Without a word.
Just.
BUH-BYE.
It was THAT awesome.
I had already gone on the worst date ever a year ago.
(If you'd like to see the comedic horror of me reenacting said date check out my Youtube video, Dating Portlandia: The Worst Date Ever. Youtube.com/ResaStarXO)
We connected through Facebook.
That's right.
I cheated on Tinder with Facebook.
Which I'm actually gonna go out on a limb here and tell you that you should never do that!
He showed up under 'People You May Know.'
We had some random, artsy friends in common and I thought he was kinda cute.
So sure.
Why not.
Let's be 'friends.'
Well, like any good 'friend' he started giving me lots of Facebook love.
Nothing says I think you're pretty like lots of thumbs up on selfies.
And my Tinder account had been fairly inactive as of late and I felt like going on a date.
So I used that stupid messenger app Facebook made us download if we wanted to send messages to each other without ex girlfriends reading them and I asked him if he wanted to get a drink sometime.
I used a winky face emoticon and everything.
Which is emoticon-speak for I'm flirting with you.
And he said YES.
(It should also be noted that I NEVER ask guys out. I've found that the best dates are the ones where the men are interested enough to ask me out. I don't know why I broke my own rule. Don't break your own rules! Unless it might get you laid. Ok. I guess that's why I broke my own rule. Carry on, Reese.)
So I ASSUMED that the only reason a guy would accept a drink invitation was because he was interested.
*Cough*
But let me continue.
So we exchange numbers and begin texting.
He suggests a myriad of swanky bars around town to choose from--the only good thing to come from this wretched experience was the list of bars I will be checking out WITHOUT him--
So I choose a new bar in the oh so posh Pearl District called Hamlet.
I walked in and he was already seated at the bar.
As you know (Or maybe you don't--we should really be better friends) I have an aversion to sitting at the bar on dates.
Some men get preoccupied and distracted sitting at the bar.
They forget they're sitting next to a Goddess.
Priority Me, darlings.
So I sat down and we chatted a bit.
And he was handsome enough.
A little older.
Which seemed a nice change.
Very knowledgable about whiskey and cocktails.
(A man after my own heart.)
And then after a few minutes of that, I spent the following hour BEING IGNORED.
My date was more interested in talking to the couple sitting on his left, talking to the bartender, talking to Siri.
He would occasionally say something to me, but it was so infrequent you'd have thought I just showed up at the bar uninvited like some crazy stalker.
Ok.
Let's get one thing straight.
I am AMAZING.
I looked lovely.
I'm a charming conversationalist.
I'M FUCKING ADORABLE.
But I was feeling like Cher in 'Clueless' when her date just wasn't that into her and she said, "What happened? Did my hair go flat? Did I stumble into some bad lighting?"
And then my ego wanted to shout, EXCUSE ME, DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM?!?
When he wasn't ignoring me talking to everyone else in the bar, he was constantly messing with his phone.
So much so that I finally asked, "Do you have somewhere else you need to be?"
He said no.
And I began to grow more and more annoyed.
Honestly I just felt so CONFUSED.
Why would a guy agree to meet me for drinks if he wasn't interested in talking to me?
The couple on his left he'd been so preoccupied with was finally leaving and I thought, Maybe he'll be more attentive now.
And shortly after thinking that a girl walked up to him.
They clearly had plans to meet up.
NOW.
On. My. Date.
I was introduced but with such casual indifference, like I was the house pet.
That's our dog, Fluffy.
Oh, how cute.
T H A T was the last straw.
I had given him time to redeem himself and the more time I gave him, the worse he behaved.
So.
I'd had it.
And I stood up and walked out.
Actually I found the bartender on the way out and paid for my drinks.
I wish I would have just walked out.
That would have been so much cooler.
But I was in such shock.
The classy lady in me wanted to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.
Shortly after I received a text from him, You left?
I wasn't going to respond and then I thought, No, he needs to be told he was a cad.
So I wrote back, That was the worst date I've been on in years. The bartender was more attentive than you and I'm fairly certain he's gay.
His response?
I didn't realize that was a date. I thought you just wanted to meet to discuss drinks. I'm seeing someone. Sorry.
What?
Seriously?
You thought I wanted to meet to merely "discuss drinks?"
Why the fuck would you think that?
I had never met this guy.
And he'd seen from my incessant Facebook posts the kind of woman I am.
NO ONE would ever think I'd ask a stranger out for drinks without any amorous intent.
Come on.
So I didn't respond.
I just deleted his number.
Deleted him from Facebook.
The whole thing felt ridiculous.
Even if it had been a platonic interlude, he was TERRIBLE company.
Do not ignore me.
When I was five I took my Grandpa's face in my hands and said, "You're not paying enough attention to me."
If I ever have a date ignore me like this again I'm doing that.
And MEN OF THE WORLD---
If you have a girlfriend, a fiancé, a wife, it is your job to make that clear to buxom, sassy redheads you know who are wildly single and inviting you to cocktails.
I mean the relationship status wasn't on his Facebook.
So.
How the fuck would I know?
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